Slow

I have rarely been one to rush things. I am content to be the one heading up the end of the line. I suppose if I were cast in some movie role, I would be the slow-talking, slow-moving, aw-shucks guy who would always be a bit late being clued in on the rest of the scene.

That does not mean that I don’t recognize how quickly life moves. I have my own obligations that nip away at time. Family obligations add to that mix as well. Throw in how the world operates today and soon enough life seems too full and too fast. There is always something to do. There is always someone that needs attention. There is always something for which to be anxious. Not all those things are bad but adding each together can wear a body down.

Sometimes it takes a deep breath to make it all better. Other times, someone reminds you to just slow down. Maybe a nap will provide a brief respite. Recently, for me, it was a chance to sit down for a moment while waiting to pick up Hannah from school.

I left my workplace making a short drive to Hannah’s school. Typical bumper-to-bumper traffic on multiple lanes of highway greeted me. Changing lanes while navigating the route needed to go occupied my thoughts. Quietly, the radio played an outdated traffic report. I approached a few red lights silently praying the light in my lane stayed green until I passed under. Soon enough, I was at the school searching for a parking space.

The sun was bright on this day. The weather had not yet yielded to summer, so the low humidity made this day in the month of May still feel like spring. The skies were as blue as blue can get. I made school officials know why I was there. They made me aware they would send Hannah soon.

On this day, Hannah had a strings lesson. I knew my wait would be a bit longer than any other day. I sat down on a bench to live out the wait. Of course, this meant I could pull out my phone to see what I had missed in the twenty minutes since I had last looked. Quickly, I noticed my phone battery was low. Playing it safe, I put my phone back in my pocket. I told myself how a body never knows I might need that extra battery life on the ride home. I sat on the bench determined to pass the time away without the assistance of modern technology.

Without warning, I sensed a breeze. It was slight but enough to tousle the very ends of my hair. In the distance, I could hear traffic, maybe even a siren from an emergency vehicle. It became hard to recall exactly each moment then. I could feel myself slipping away. I looked at the blue sky lost in its deepness. I realized then how the leaves in the trees were being brushed back by the wind. For a moment, I felt as if I were in some three dimensional event. Everything around me felt as if it kept moving forward while I stayed still, left behind while everything kept going. I tried to breathe it all in and hold as long as possible.

Soon enough, Hannah emerged from the building ready to go home. I stepped back into that well-worn, comfortable place that sometimes can become overgrown with stress. It was better now though. It was as if things had been reset. It felt more like the place where I belong.

When the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul.
~Psalm 94:19

The Sound

The morning air still had a bit of summer as an ingredient but the slow motion approach of autumn now mingled in the mix. The sunshine began a deliberate intrusion onto our back deck. A September Saturday was coming to life.

I came here with a bowl of cereal on this day. I ate this for my breakfast while looking out onto the still green leaves on the trees that served as the backdrop behind the deck screen. After finishing I sat alone with my thoughts.

There are always numerous things to think about whenever a quiet moment comes around. Concerns about family and friends find their way to the forefront. Work issues creep in at times. Sometimes some national or world issue presses down hard. Now and then, old memories march through.

During this time when the sun silently stretches its rays, sometimes it is simply good to sit and listen. I tried this on this Saturday.

I heard squirrels chase each other through the trees down in the woods. In the distance, a dog barked. He was up early I thought. Even further in the distance, what sounded like a motorcycle revved its engine. I tried to measure the distance it was away from me. I heard it for a good five minutes. It sounded like it was riding from one red light to the next red light, miles away. In between stops, the noise was nearly as if it were outside on the street. Since it sounded so loud miles away, I wondered how loud it sounded right next to it. Surely, the rider suffered from hearing loss once he got to his destination.

When the motorcycle faded away, an airplane passed overhead. A quiet, constant hum blended into the background almost as soon as it started. When it left, I could hear the wind ruffling the leaves on the trees a few times.

As time moved on, I knew I could not stay here all day. There were things to do. In time, the sun’s rays would warm up the deck. All the noises of the early morning would be replaced with more of what I had already heard along with other noises like lawnmowers and weed-eaters and more traffic and people outside talking and moving around.

I am not sure how long I sat there. It was no more than a few minutes though. While I tried to just relax, from time-to-time, some of those concerns from life, still showed up.

Another thing kept showing up during this time. The birds kept singing. They chirped. Some flew overhead outside. Sometimes, it sounded as if they were carrying on a conversation with each other. They did not seem to be weighed down with the world’s cares.

There is a lesson there somewhere, isn’t there?

Look at the birds. They don’t plant, harvest, or save food in barns, but your heavenly Father feeds them. Don’t you know you are worth much more than they are?
-Matthew 6:26

The Long Haul

It has been a long haul in one sense. The time covers parts of six different months, March, April, May, June, July, and now August. If I counted every one of the days between the two points the number would be over 150. Now, at least for the immediate days ahead, I can stop numbering them.

I was scheduled to return to work this week after being away from my physical office for over five months. An unexpected minor health issue kept me away where I continued to work from home. I am thankful I remained employed at this time. I am equally grateful I could work from home during this time. These extended days were different than all the ones which came before though.

Almost every one of these days from March into August, Hannah was home with me. Jennifer continued to report to her work, so most days it was me, her and our cat, Kayla. At first, Hannah had homework to do daily which divided my time and attention. Hannah’s niece was able to bear part of that load for a time, so we are eternally grateful for her help.

Later, after Hannah’s school year ended, her scheduled summer camp canceled. Suddenly, her summer vacation was here in our house. While I planned some fun things to do, we were limited by parks and businesses being closed. That mingled in with my daily workload. We had our moments though. We used sidewalk chalk to decorate a backyard stump. We made a homemade lamp with water, a waterproof light, and a jar of beads. We even cooked smores in the heat of July’s sun. Some days, her neighborhood friend came by to stay for a few hours. We had some fun and laughs. Hopefully, some of these times will be long remembered by Hannah. Still, I cannot help but think how difficult the loss of our routine was at times for all of us.

Now, though, Hannah has returned to school. She can see her friends once again. She can bond with her teachers. She can learn new things.

On the last day, we were together before these days at home ended, I was swamped with work. It seemed as if I could not keep from falling behind. Hannah took it easy watching some movies. I felt the same feeling I have felt for over 150 days. I was torn between family and work knowing there was no easy resolution to the guilt I felt since it is so hard to find just the correct balance in such a situation. On this day, the choice was the same as it was so many days behind us, I could not spend a lot of time with Hannah or else the work piled higher.

After a phone meeting, I knew our mail had probably been delivered. I thought, at least we could go to the mailbox together, as we had done most of the days we had shared through the summer. I walked into the living room, glanced out the window only to notice the rain was coming down outside.

So much for that, I thought. Or, maybe not.

I then asked Hannah if she wanted to go to the mailbox. She said yes. We walked to the porch where she finally noticed the rain. I asked if she still wanted to go to the mailbox. She said yes. She even suggested we run to the mailbox in our bare feet. We looked at each other, smiled then ambled down the front steps breaking into a trot down the walkway into the driveway before stopping at the mailbox. I heard Hannah laugh and squeal as we ran. Fortunately, we did not slide or fall or knock each other over.

I opened the mailbox. Junk mail. The rain continued to fall.

We then turned, making our way back up the driveway, walkway, and steps in our half running-half jog. We stopped on the porch, with drenched shirts and wet hair. We laughed at ourselves and at each other.

We then noticed our wet footprints. Of course, the initial footprints were made just by reaching the safety of the porch. We chuckled at the funny shapes the footprints made. Hannah placed her feet on top of my footprints amazed at the size difference. After we examined these first footprints, they began to dry and fade away. We then walked down the steps to wet our feet again. We made our way back onto the porch so we could make more footprints.

This was a nice break for ten minutes. For Hannah, the moment was over. There is only so much you can say about a wet footprint. For me, I sensed work piling up behind my back. The push-pull of the past five months was once again providing just enough tension to weigh heavily on me.

It is too early to tell how these few months will be remembered for our family unit. Surely, we will pick out some of the fun or odd times we all experienced so we can look back and laugh. Maybe, the strain and stress that was present will slip away over time.

Hannah is too young now to understand the daily struggle I felt to balance my workday with her life. I tried not to let that pressure show. Still, it was there. I also know that battle is a heavy memory I cannot turn loose yet. I will live with it until I can reconcile it in my heart and my head. Maybe, at some point, it will stop leaning on me as much as it does now.

I can only hope that maybe sometime in the future, Hannah will see her wet footprints again then remember these days just now passed. Maybe, for a moment, it will take her back to a muggy August afternoon when she raced her dad to the mailbox in a late summer rain. And, maybe, it will make her smile and think how those days were good ones. And, maybe, she will marvel how memories are often made with little notice. Maybe she will appreciate how the same memories can fade into time like wet footprints drying before your very eyes. And, maybe she will come to understand how these memories mysteriously remain for life's long haul lingering close by to be recalled when they are needed the most.

All That's Left On The Roll

And, so here we are. Mid-March in the year of our Lord, 2020. I sit in our living room tapping out these words on a computer monitor waiting to start my day as the morning’s darkness gives way slowly to a foggy shield. I am wearing pajama pants and an old green shirt that is so soft and comfortable I cannot make myself consider parting with it. My work email is already making my phone light up providing me with activity in the hours ahead. In a few minutes, our daughter will brighten this room with her personality. Not long after her appearance, we will begin her school day. And, at this place, and at this time, we do all that from this our living room.

I suppose each generation, or at least certain members of each generation, has paused, breathed in deeply, looked around at what was happening around them, and came to the conclusion that the world, as in the people who live in the world, have totally and completely lost their last fragment of common sense. Looking back, I probably have come to that conclusion multiple times in my lifetime but that is just how I tick. I must say though these last few weeks have helped sway me in that direction once again.

A virus has spread globally and now is impacting our country. As I write that last sentence, the words seem a bit unreal. It sounds like the background to some poorly written and badly produced made-for-TV movie from the 1980s. Of course, it is much more serious than that.

It is hard though to know what to believe during such times. We drown under a flood of information. Additionally, many of us feel we cannot trust many of those who bring us this information. Our leaders, on every side, bicker between themselves to the point of embarrassment. Many of us pick sides among all these powerful players then root for “our” side as if it were a sporting event on a Saturday afternoon. Knowing what to believe is hard when sometimes it bounces up against what a body wants to believe.

Any way you view things, it is a complicated world. I took a day off at the end of this past previous week. I planned to do some needed things at our house. Hysteria had set in enough though that I spent my leave day setting things up to work from home. The night before my wife told me she had intended to stop at the grocery store to buy some salad for our dinner. She though caught wind of the chaos gripping the stores and thought otherwise. Of course, salad was probably plentiful. Toilet paper was the hot item. I told her the next morning, on my day off, I would get up early then visit the grocery store to purchase some needed items and stock up on other things.

As I cruised the aisles of our nearby grocery, knowing Hannah and I were to be bunkered at home for at least a week, I filled the buggy (Southern for grocery cart) with some staples to get by the next few days, milk, cereal, bread. I also bought a few comfort items such as cookies and Co-Colas (Southern for soda pop). And, of course, I bought two packs of toilet paper.

Now, we are about a week into this latest stage of hysteria. I believe we have reason to be concerned with what is happening in our world. We need to take care of ourselves and those we love. It is even a good idea to check on others such as the neighbors whose names you struggle to remember. We need to take measures to make certain we can stay well, get well and do better the next time the next wave of hysteria comes calling. Maybe, when it all settles, we will be more patient and kind and concerned about each one of us. Still, for now, I wonder. Toilet paper?

Last night, after a day of answering email for work, leading some training via online conferencing and trying to understand second-grade math from the perspective of an eight-year-old, it was time to call it a day. I turned the lights off throughout the house then stepped into the bathroom. I realized my nose was a bit stuffy, so I reached for the toilet paper, only to find the roll had just enough to unwrap it one turn. It was just the right amount.

I picked up the now-bare roll and dropped it into the trashcan. I then washed my hands thoroughly. I thought to myself how odd it is that toilet paper, of all things, is still flying off the shelves. I hope we don’t run out of it.

Then I thought about common sense. I hope we have a few rolls of that stocked away because it seems to be as valuable a commodity these days as toilet paper.

When Even The Skies Are Blue

“These are sad times
World gone mad times
Men doing bad times
Lord, what is this world coming to
Between religions and wars
Drugs and divorce
Hell, it seems like the whole world is fight'n
The sun might be shining
But even the skies are blue”

It is a wonder, at times, isn’t it, how we get to the places we arrive. It is hard to fathom how in our world today we can have so much, how we can know so much but how we still cannot find happiness. Anymore, some choose to not even let others be happy. How dare they experience happiness.

“These are hard days
Heavy old hard days
Dead string guitar days
And the devil is picking his tune.

When our daddies quit staying
And our mommas quit praying
Even the children quit tryin’
God must be crying
Cause even the skies are blue”

I see it as a battle as old as time. That, though, is just too simple an answer for some to accept. Okay, then. Tell me again how all the complicated, involved solutions just seem to be making matters improve. And, yeah, I know, who am I to even dare bring God into all this, when my own life is a mess sometimes? Funny, though, in a peculiar way, how some freely hand out gold shiny medals for good intentions or just showing up for pretty much anything and everything but how these same people are incapable or unwilling to extend the same to someone intending to live their life, albeit imperfectly, in the shadow of the love of God. Grace and mercy must have limits with some people especially to those they choose to not understand.

“If we all know a way
To make a better day
Why isn’t anyone trying
The sun might be shining
But even the skies are blue”

Living in the world we live today, with so much potential and promise, it is amazing how we let those with the loudest voices manipulate then divide us. We allow this to happen over things we make acid tests for acceptance just so these loud voices can stay elected or on our TV sets. I could rant and rave here in this space then suggest you turn off the cable news. I could say setting your phone down so you can skip Twitter and Facebook for a few days might relieve your stress level so you can focus on living life away from fretting about the fate of the known free world. I’d just be another voice lost in the muddle of modern humanity trying to figure out why so many seemingly want no one to be happy again. I choose, though, to be happy. I choose to let the blue skies I see, and the blue skies my family sees, be skies of hope and promise, and not skies of impending doom and gloom. The difference can be subtle. Any difference seen though begins with me. You have a choice also, don't you? Please make it matter.

"Even The Skies Are Blue" written by Jamey Johnson
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dAz33RP-b3o 

I’m Just Going To Leave This Right Here: The Frustrated Edition

Had a long day? We all do at some point. We all have those moments of frustration. Maybe it’s work-related or something at school. It could be something of a personal nature. It could be that someone did something not-so-smart in traffic today that just set you off. Maybe it’s just a small drip of lots of things that build up until you feel you need some sort of release.

I have been there. I have been aggravated when I explain something to someone then they return and I have to explain the same thing to them again. I have been bothered when some one chose to shut me up and not even listen to my reasoning or explanations. I feel overwhelmed when I work hard only to then look up to see I have rarely made a dent in what I have to complete. I get it.

I can tell you when I reach this point I try things to try to get past the level of frustration I feel. I mean if I really let frustration hit it’s peak I might lash out in some way that I might regret later. So, for me, maybe a short break and walk outside will help. Maybe cranking up a favorite song will smooth things out. Comfort food is fattening, and not so great in some ways, but, oh so helpful in other ways.

I know though that what works for me may not work for you. Still, I want to help. I want to be able to be someone you know who can help you get past frustration. Now, I suppose I could lend an ear to you and let you vent, but as the kids say today, “ain’t nobody got time for that”. I mean you need immediate help, and besides, if I have to sit through one more person complaining about whatever, I may just break down in tears. You don’t need that, you need something that will help you get on with things.

This is why I have loaded the picture below for you. It sits on my office door, magnetized to the metal door frame. I place it level to my neck. It sits there ready and waiting if it is ever needed. You have it now. Feel free to capture in a screen shot or download it. Tape it to some hard surface and save it for one of those days when your frustration level seems like it won’t top off.

I’ll just leave this here in case you need it. Mind you I have never really used this as described. The thought of bashing my head against a metal door frame usually makes me realize my frustration level is not worth a headache. You can use it however you wish though. You will have to provide your own Tylenol.